


If I Fell

by FlokesDesign



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, George tries to help, Happy Ending, Insecurity, John is a dick, M/M, Minor John Lennon/Paul McCartney, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Ringo is insecure, Smut, Vomiting, ringo needs a hug, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlokesDesign/pseuds/FlokesDesign
Summary: Ringo felt terrible. His stage fright had always been bad. This time however it was worse, much worse than usually and John's teasing certainly didn't help. George on the other hand was a big support with his soft reassuring words and Ringo couldn't be more grateful.The other three lads never acted that way, they usually seemed calm before going on stage. To Ringo it was different.Every time they were about to perform he felt this demon of a feeling spread through his veins and cause a certain dizziness in his head, making him feel like he couldn’t do it, like he would faint every moment. Ringo knew it was going to be alright as soon as he’d sit down behind his drum kit and did what he could do best – at least that usually was the case, usually when he didn’t have to sing a song all himself.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	If I Fell

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> Since English isn't my first language and I don't have any English beta readers I'm really sorry for any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. Be free to correct me in the comments! I'd really appreciate that.  
> I actually intended this to be two chapters but somehow I couldn't really find the right place to part it so it's really long now.  
> This also is historically totally inaccurate lol.  
> Enjoy!

Ringo could do this. After all he was a grown-up man. In fact, he was the oldest of the group. This should be fine, yes, he would be fine. Besides , what could happen really? Nothing, no nothing at all…right? He would not freak out now, not in front of the other three lads.

Just because he’d be singing one of the songs today didn’t mean it would go any different. Ringo wasn’t nervous – absolutely not at all, no.

He felt a cold evil feeling creep up his spine through his intestines and into his head. It slowly run through every cell of his body, spreading through every bit of him like a terrible disease. Ringo tried to fight it back, wanted this feeling to shrink back again to its usual mingy size. He wished it would simply curl up inside of him and never show up again. The man was sweating, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. It was as if he lost complete control over everything. He felt himself moving, running in circles, uncontrollably and unconsciously.

He wasn’t nervous, no, he was _absolutely terrified_.

George, Paul and John never acted that way, they usually seemed calm before going on stage. To Ringo it was different. Every time they were about to perform he felt this demon of a feeling spread through his veins and cause a certain dizziness in his head, making him feel like he couldn’t do it, like he would faint every moment.

Ringo knew it was going to be alright as soon as he’d sit behind his drum kit and did what he could do best – at least that usually was the case, usually when he didn’t have to sing a song all himself. Ringo didn’t consider his voice to be a general bad one, but all the teasing from his band mates – especially Paul and John as George usually wouldn’t tease him for that – definitely had an impact on Ringo’s confidence. After all it must have had a reason they didn’t want him to sing during the gigs, right?

While Ringo would shake off thoughts like this most of the time, he just couldn’t stop criticising himself at the moment. He should have practiced more, he should have sung it more often and he shouldn’t have insisted on singing anything at all. Oh lord, he should have just let it go, let the other three do their thing while he did his thing- and that thing was drumming, not singing. Ringo liked to sing, he really did and he didn’t like it when Paul or John joked about his voice and vocal abilities. Especially John could be mean, almost evil sometimes, mostly when he wanted to be funny and often that was to be on Ringo’s costs. It hurt Ringo a lot usually, not that he would ever admit that weakness to John, but said man certainly didn’t help increasing Ringo’s confidence. It wasn’t that Ringo was a generally insecure person, he certainly wasn’t, but there were a few things Ringo was very insecure about and one of them was singing.

Ringo liked John, he was a good friend usually. But sometimes friends, close friends particularly, that are spending too much time with each other unknowingly cross a line. A line that divides funny from painful. He knew he was too kind, he should have said something to stop John from fretting him, should have told him how hurtful it was instead of laughing it of as a joke. But what would that change now. After all there must have been something true about it, otherwise John wouldn’t have pointed it out, would he? Maybe Ringo really was a bad singer, maybe he really couldn’t carry a tune. John also had voice cracks, sang sloppily or got slightly out of tune sometimes, Ringo knew that. But nobody seemed to laugh him down him for that and nobody told John to stop singing, right? Not even Paul, who was the definition of always in tune and a perfect-voiced singer, teased John for his imperfections. How bad must Ringo be that he was the only one who got all that critic from them?

Pathetic, really pathetic he must look, running in circles in his and George’s room. He didn’t even know in which country they were and what time it was It made him glad once again that he wouldn’t have to do the talking during the concert.

It was times like this where Ringo wished he could have his drums with him in the hotel room. While the other lads usually strummed their guitars and hummed their singing parts in order to to calm their nerves, Ringo always felt like there was nothing he could grasp onto.

There was still an hour left until they’d have to get started for their show and Ringo was already exhausted and absolutely terrified. George, who had talked to John and Paul in the pair’s room previously, entered the room eventually, seeing the shorter man pacing around restlessly.

“What’s going on?” he asked him confusedly, not being used to his friend being that fussed. Sure, Ringo always got nervous and sweaty right before a gig but it was still over an hour time until they had to leave and he had never seen the older one that alarmed.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s fine” Ringo answered, certainly trying to convince himself rather than George. Of course George saw that nothing was alright, he wasn’t blind or anything after all. He gestured Ringo take a seat on their bed, next to him, patting onto the mattress slightly.

After Ringo sat down he felt a cold hand on his back, George’s hand of course.

“Why are you so nervous?” the taller one carefully asked. As if Ringo knew! It was completely irrational anyway!

He just shrugged “Don’t know. Buck fever, stage fight whatever you want to call it.“

Ringo bit his lip and his eyes started wandering to the single boring painting on the wall, catty-corner from his and George’s shared bed. The painting was ugly, the colours way to dirty and the atmosphere way too depressing. Ringo hated it. What was it supposed to be?But he didn’t really care anyway, his anxiety was way to present in his head.

“Is it because of the new schedule? Because you sing a song too now?” George guessed rightfully. Ringo silently cursed the other one for reading him that well. George was his best friend and somehow, he always knew what was going on in Ringo’s head. Well, at least mostly, there were things Ringo would never let George know about. No, he wouldn’t tell George about his insecurities, he wouldn’t tell him how much John’s words during their previous practice had hurt him. It had been a long day for all of them and Ringo had felt a little tired and thus wasn’t completely concentrated while singing his parts. Well, John being John and not thinking about his actions, had laughed and said some things Ringo considered as utterly mean. “Unmusical” and “Tone-Deaf” he had called him. Ringo knew that John hadn’t had any evil intention towards him but the older one also knew that John was an honest and very straight forward person. And since John was as honest as he was Ringo figured these were his real thoughts him. Was he really that bad? Was that really what the others thought of him? Ringo suddenly realized that George was still waiting for an answer, any kind of explanation. He shook his head, trying to shake off his thought. No, he couldn’t talk to George about this, especially not to George. Not that he didn’t trust him or thought George wasn’t the right pal for a talk about feelings and insecurities, absolutely not at all. It was just that Ringo liked George. A lot. More than friends do. And it happened to be that Ringo didn’t want George to see him as pathetic, insecure or weak. He wanted George to see, that he was a kind person with confidence and humour. He however didn’t want him to see this angsty mess. He didn’t want George to know that some random words from John could hurt him in a way like that. Ringo didn’t want to think of himself as sensitive, and neither did he want George to think of him like that. But it wasn’t only that Ringo didn’t want George to know about these things, it was also that George was the cause of additional nervousness, something Ringo absolutely didn’t need and couldn’t handle at the moment. Constantly having to hide his feelings for the other lad certainly wasn’t easy at all. The urge to stare at George, take in every detail of his beautifully, beautifully shaped face, his dark brown eyes paired with full eyebrows and thick, slightly wavy hair. Of course, he couldn’t just do that and restraining himself from doing so was already a challenge he faced almost every day. And just like things are when you like somebody, his heart started racing as soon as their eyes met or George smiled at him with these beautiful sharp teeth and glowing eyes, or just any time at all when Ringo saw the lad. A lovesick racing heart was the last Ringo needed on top of the already jitterly racing one.

Sighing, Ringo leaned his back against the wall next to the bed he was sitting on. Eventually he nodded slightly at the question George had asked. “I should have practiced more” he tried, knowing it didn’t really explain much.

“No, I don’t think so, I think it sounded quite nice last time.“ George said in his ever so perfect soothing and beautifully warm voice. Ringo just shot him a you-don’t-even-believe-yourself look, brows raised and lips in a small pout.

“George it was terrible! You heard John”

“Oi that’s just John” George threw in, with a slight frown on his face as if he understood what was going on. “John is a prick, you shouldn’t take it too seriously”

“Yeah but he’s an honest prick George, he doesn’t tell you lies he doesn’t believe himself” Ringo said, tired from his nervousness but slightly distracted by talking to George about it.

“Maybe, but I don’t think you’re bad, I’m sure it’ll be alright.” George got up and for a moment Ringo was afraid he’d leave, annoyed by his whining and his now so nakedly obvious insecurities, but George just went to the opposite side of their tiny room to pick up his guitar and come back to sit down next to Ringo again.

“Alright, let’s just go through it again okay? You’ll see it will be fine.”

It wasn’t fine, Ringo’s heart started racing again running a marathon Ringo hadn’t singed up for and he felt his voice shaking too be much to be masked as an intentional tremolo.

“It’s not working George.” Ringo whimpered and covered his eyes in embarrassment and shame. “I can’t do this.“

George kept quiet for a moment. “That’s it” shot through Ringo’s brain. “He’s getting tired of me, he’s thinking the same way of me as John does” But yet again Ringo did George wrong by thinking of said man the way he just had. George once again started stroking his back, tracing slow circles over Ringo’s disgusting, sweaty shirt. Didn’t it bother him? How could he even touch him like that? Ringo felt mortified, exposed. He didn’t want George to see this side of him, not now, not ever.

“When I’m getting scared I usually try to think of every possibility. Usually nothing horrible can happen. So, what If you sing out of tune or sing something wrong? It won’t be the end of the world, you know? The fans won’t execute you or hate you just because of a mistake and neither will John Paul or I.”

Ringo knew that of course, but it was a way bigger challenge to actually get these thoughts more present in his head than the constant fear and embarrassment that was totally dizzying his mind right now. It was like trying to see through fog by attempting to get rid of it with a knife. Hopeless. Pathetic.

“George?” the short man started quietly “Do you really think my singing is bad?”

George had answered this before and yet the honesty of the question, the longing for a truth that wouldn’t hurt Ringo as much as Johns’ words lay thick and heavy between them and I was quiet for a few moments. Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe that was just what Ringo’s pitiful mind made it to be, maybe George had answered right away, maybe he only thought of the silence to be as long as it felt.

“Absolutely not Ringo, your nervousness makes you doubt yourself and it impacts your voice. If you were more confident about your abilities you wouldn’t be so shaken by the little mistakes you know? I make mistakes too but it doesn’t matter as long as I go on.” Ringo nodded and sighed again.

“How come you are never nervous like that Georgie?” Ringo asked while playing with his hands awkwardly.

“I used to be nervous doing anything in front of others when I was younger” George admitted. “But my lovely mother had a big impact on me by telling me what to do against it.”

“What did she say?” Ringo asked, interested.

“Well” The slim man chuckled “This is what she said to me as a child, and thus it might sound childish but it still helps me today. She used to tell me to imagine putting on a hat and the hat would be my confidence. My doubtful thoughts wouldn’t be able to reach said hat because it was sitting on top of them and was stronger. Mom said that whenever I’d feel particularly shaken I should remember the hat that was individual to me because I was the only one who could see it just like I was the only one who could do whatever I had to present. It’s the reason why we’re on stage in the first place, because we present something the others can’t or don’t want to do. Not everybody can play the drums while singing, which is why you do it and not them Richie.”

A little smile had formed on Ringo’s lips. “You’re actually right about that Georgie, I guess I’ll try put on a confident hat.“ He chuckled and acted as if he’d be placing an imaginary hat on his head.“Hope it doesn’t ruin my hair” he added.

“Here we go again, you’re back to your old self.“ George smiled. "Now let’s sing it once again."

Some time passed and Ringo felt much calmer than before, the only thing still making him nervous and all messed up was the love he felt for his friend. It was something Ringo could handle as long as he wouldn’t think too much into it.

However, when Brian came in to pick them up for their gig again it was all back again. Ringo felt like he was about to have a heart attack every moment. His hands started feeling numb, his knees weak as jelly. He couldn’t hear George chatting to Brian anymore since his heart beat, earsplittingly loud, filled his entire head with noise. Ringo felt sick, he couldn’t think clear anymore. It reminded him a bit of the few times he was under anaesthesia because of an upcoming operation, one of the many he had to endure as a sickly child. The feeling right before falling asleep- or rather collapsing had been similar. Just like his fear it had been something he couldn’t fight against, something that would slowly but surely drag him down and nauseate him.

They all got into the car and Ringo felt like a total disappointment when he looked at his reflection on the car window. He was pale, his skin looking doughy, his eyes exhausted and fearful. He felt bad for the other lads who were pressed closely against him in the car. He felt sorry for them for having to bear his sweat. This wasn’t what their fans wanted to see. They wanted to see a cheerful, youthful and most importantly joyfully confident Beatle. No this, not a sick locking picture of misery. Some fans were screaming and surrounding the car, mobbing them. The sight made Ringo feel nauseated and sick. Ringo hated the obsession the people had for him and the other three lads. He didn’t like to be idolized. It made him feel pressured, uneasy and trapped in his own unfolding. These people didn’t deserve a bad performance and they didn’t deserve to be let down by something they were so fond and obsessive of.

“Is our conky Ringo boy not feeling good?” John crackled. “Looking a bit pale, don’t you?”

Ringo felt a hot and unstoppable anger spreading in his chest. Not this now, he didn’t want to deal with this.

“Shut up John. Leave him alone.” He heard George saying.

Wrong answer.

“Are you protecting your lover boy now, do you” John kept going, clearly just joking without any bad intentions but Ringo wasn’t having it.

The older man regretted it immediately after a ringed fist of his landed right in John’s stomach region. John hadn’t expected that. No one had. It wasn’t something that Ringo would do – normally. He wasn’t that kind of person.

Usually, John would hit back immediately but the lad was startled, taken by surprise. He was covering his stomach with both hands, eyes widened. Ringo the eyes of the others on him and tried hard not to look back at them. It certainly hadn’t helped his nervousness at all but at least it had made John stop.

“What the hell! Did you drink Ringo?” Paul said, anger on his face. The man with the big doe eyes had one of his hands on John’s shoulder, almost protectively, reassuringly.

“We have a gig now, there’s no time for fighting” he heard George mumble. It felt distant and Ringo felt disappointed in himself for acting up.

“You’ll pay for that bullshit as soon as were done playing “ John said furiously.

Ringo knew John meant it, as he never was a person to be able to contain is anger and control his fury. But Ringo didn’t care, if John wanted to fight then be it. He however had different problems now.

After leaving the car and heading into the building they were playing in today, Ringo couldn’t handle it anymore. His fear was nauseating, quite literally and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to play like this. But was there another choice? Certainly not. He had no choice, after all this was his job, his passion.

Ringo felt a familiar bitter and at the same time sour taste in his mouth, but he tried to swallow it down. Not now. He wouldn’t throw up, he wouldn’t give the others that satification. He wouldn’t blunder himself like that. He started fumbling on his tie, fingers trembling. It was too tight around his neck, he needed to breathe. Ringo let out a little surprised noise when he felt George’s hand on his, carefully making him stop fumbling around.

“Let’s go to the bathroom for a moment Richie“ he heard a distant warm voice.

“Okay” he croaked back, still dizzy, still unable to grasp any clear thoughts. John and Paul weren’t paying them much attention while the two of them were heading off, still chatting with each other quietly.

They still had some time left before they had to go out there, and to Ringo that was pure torture. George carefully accompanied him to the bathroom, his hand resting on the older ones back, giving some kind of comfort. Ringo started fumbling on his tie again. It was too tight, he felt trapped. Finally, he managed or loosen it a bit, just to notice that the tightness in his throat didn’t go away despite.

“Do you have to throw up?” George asked, in a worried tone that made Ringo feel guilty.

“I guess so…delicious innit?” he chuckled weakly, receiving a faint smile from George.

“It's going to be alright Richie, close your eyes and take some deep breaths.“ Ringo tried to do as George told him.

“I’m sorry really, it’s pathetic…”

“Hush, we all feel bad sometimes” George simply replied with more understanding in his voice than Ringo could handle. Ringo did feel slightly reassured but that didn’t help the bitterness sneaking up his throat and taking him by surprise, suddenly gagging and vomiting into the sink. Coughing Ringo tried to clean his mouth with some of the wipes that were laying next to the sink.

“Sorry Georgie “

“Don’t be sorry it’s all out now, right? Here, have something to drink to get rid of that nasty taste.” He said, handing him a bottle of water. George really did think of anything Ringo figured while gladly taking a few swigs.

“I owe you something” Ringo observed after calming down a bit. Puking had actually helped to get rid of some of his nausea. “I can’t just let you take care of me like that.”

“Remember when I was all drunk back in Hamburg?”

“When I was still in Rory’s band?”

“Yeah, exactly, I was puking like a defecator and you were the only one willing to hold the hair out of my face Richie. You don’t owe me anything” George chuckled. “But if you want to do something anyway, you could just go out with me tomorrow? Into the little café next to the hotel?”

Ringo _must_ have misunderstood. This was too much for his poor nerves and dizzy thoughts to handle. Surely George just joked and would laugh it off at any moment. But since George didn’t laugh Ringo found another way to explain it to himself. George must have meant going out like _friends_ do it. Drinking coffee, talking about life - nothing _romantic_. That must be it. Ringo had just misunderstood. George simply meant having a coffee together and hanging out casually.

“Sure, I’d like that” he answered, smiling merely, trying not to look all too excited. It was just hanging out with his best friend after all. _Not_ a date. No. A beautiful smile lay on George’s nicely shaped face and, oh, was that a faint blush? No, it couldn’t be. Ringo was just making up stuff he wished to be true.

“Let’s get back. Its time to hit the stage” George threw in before it got awkward. “You can do it Richie and if it doesn’t work at all I’m going to help you out a bit alright?” The taller one gave Ringo a slight squeeze, that the shorter one wished lasted longer.

Oh, how could George be so perfect he thought. There was nothing George couldn’t do, he always managed to make Ringo smile again, always hit the right tone, was it in a song or in a conversation. George was truly the most amazing friend Ringo could have. Oh, Ringo wished he wouldn’t crush on George that hard, he wished George wasn’t a man, wished he could just go on dates, kiss him, hug him… He wanted to be with George forever. A life without George? - Impossible. It was like a drug to Ringo. Once tasting the sweetness, the harmony and love George spread, it was impossible to stop. He wanted more and more. It wasn’t enough any longer. Friendship wasn’t enough anymore. Ringo wanted to hold him, yes hug him squeeze him, he wanted kiss him, _love_ him. Yes. He _loved_ George. It wasn’t just a momentary infatuation, that was clear to Ringo. George was something he could never get over.

It was sad really. A one-sided love wasn’t what made anyone happy, but for Ringo it was just enough. Yes he wanted more but since that wasn't possible, he felt grateful to be close to George, grateful to know him. It was privilege enough to be his best friend, wasn’t it? Paul wasn’t Georges best friend and they had known each other much longer already. It was him, him Richard who had this _amazing_ man as his best friend. George was perfect. He always knew what to say to help, to make him laugh, make him think. It was a shame that he wasn’t a girl, someone he could actually be with Ringo thought. It was something he tried not to think about often. He tried to be happy about how it was now, happy to appreciate these moments. It was bittersweet but all he could do.

Dwelling in these warm thoughts about George, that made Ringo feel electrified, enlightened and put a little smile as well as a faint blush on his face, he barely noticed how he was walking onto the stage without any issues. The thought of going out with George, as _friends_ of course, made him happy and seemed to blow away every single bit of stage fright. Well, not entirely.

When it was Ringo’s turn to sing he surely did feel like someone woke him up from a warm comfortable dream and brought him back to a harsh cold reality, filled with anxiety and insecurities.

“And now, all nervous, singing slightly out of key - Ringo” he announced himself to the crowd of people. George had turned around a bit with a reassuring smile, giving him a little nod and just for a moment their eyes locked and Ringo felt like time stood still. A sudden heat and wave of excitement was bubbling up in his chest. He could do this. And if not – at least he’d still have George who would go out with him tomorrow.

The song started and it really wasn’t great, but good enough to satisfy Ringo’s drained nerves. He saw the little smile on George’s lips from behind his drums – George hadn’t turned around but Ringo could sense it. George liked it, he did good.

They weren’t done yet but Ringo already felt as if a weight, heavy as thousands of octopuses, was lifted off his shoulders. Things were fine. He was fine.

The drummer purely enjoyed the rest of the evening and kept dwelling in his rosy thoughts about George.

It wasn’t until the end of the show that Ringo noticed John’s malicious stares and remembered the punch he had given. He felt partly sorry for hitting the other lad, especially before a gig, on the other hand John had deserved it. But the drummer knew that even through John had been mean and rude and had deserved to be punched once in a while, it wasn’t something Ringo wanted to do. He didn’t want to fight. After all, John still was his friend and could be just as fun and nice as he could be mean and haughty.

Ringo explained John behaviour towards him and everybody else with John’s sensitivity. A sensitivity that John wanted to hide and get rid of badly and thus acting all tough and insensitive toward others. It was something that took time to for Ringo to progress and understand as he was someone who was generally good-hearted and couldn’t understand why John would use other people’s pride as a joke. By now he learned that this was just a mix of the man’s personality and his way of dealing with his own insecurities.

No, Ringo really didn’t want to throw hands with John. He’d apologize and maybe get him some chocolate coated cornflakes or something like that. When they left the stage after some more flirting and winking from Paul with the crowd, Ringo tried to think of a plan on how to make peace with John who obviously hadn’t gotten over it during the past hours of playing. John was a master at holding grudges if some one had hurt his ever-growing pride.

Ringo wasn’t prepared for the punch that landed right in his face as soon as they were backstage. He stumbled back dumbfoundedly, shocked by the suddenness of the attack. He heard Brian crying out in distress while trying to hold John back from attacking again.

“Come on Lennon, let’s solve this differently...” Ringo tried, sounding tired. But John didn’t really look like he was ready to make peace.

It was only when Paul stepped in that the man started to calm down. Ringo couldn’t really make out what they were talking about since Paul whisperd to John in a very quiet tone, but he thought he had heard something like “You could rather spend some time with me darling.”

What the hell? That couldn’t have been right Ringo noted. He couldn’t have heard that right and if he did he just misunderstood. Paul was immovably heterosexual and would never… Would he? Ringo felt baffled. What was going on today? He had expected John to have some kind of queerness about him since said man reacted extremely exaggeratedly defensive if one was to call him queer. To Ringo just meant that it had some kind of truth to it. However, it was something that wasn’t his business and he wouldn’t make it be, so he just quietly kept said thoughts to himself. Ringo wasn’t a person who would nag or be annoyingly curious. He respected the privacy of others just as much as he would have liked them to respect his own.

“John I’m really sorry, I was pressured and you kinda pushed me over the edge. I shouldn’t have hit you really. I promise to make it up to you alright?” sheepishly smiling he tried to apologize to the other man. “Besides, were equal, now aren’t we?” he pointed at his slightly bleeding nose. John just huffed and got in the car, not saying anything anymore. Fine to Ringo.

The car ride back to the hotel was awkward to all four of them, John and Ringo particularly. Paul was quietly chatting with George about some bird outside the window. Ringo didn’t understand what they were saying as he was sitting on the opposite window side, pressed against John. Not that he really cared about their conversation anyway. They were all sweaty and stinky and Ringo really felt sorry for the driver and whoever had to clean the car afterwards. It would be an unpleasant experience for sure.

His eyes rested on his own ringed fingers, not really registering what he was seeing while his thoughts already wandered back to _him_ \- George. Ringo felt like it was getting worse, his obsession for the lad. Oh, how he wished he could just kiss him and show him all his admiration and love. What would the others say if they knew? Paul and John? Would they abandon him? Would they throw him out of the band because a queer man wouldn’t fit in the picture of their fan loved group? He thought back to what he had heard them whisper previously, right after their gig. No Paul and John would probably just laugh at him, pull some harmless jokes and nothing more. But what would George say? Ringo didn’t want to lose their friendship and he surely he would if George was to find out about his feelings for him. He didn’t want George to look at him disgusted. God, George would think of him as a pervert after all the nights they had spent in the same bed. He’d never dare to lay down on the mattress next to Ringo again. And oh lord, on top of all it wasn’t even legal to love another man, Ringo had learned that much from Brian. No, George could never find about this, Ringo decided with a quiet sigh. Besides, it was fine like this wasn’t it? Being near to George was good enough right?

It hurt. It hurt his heart to see it that clearly now, to see that his dreams and wishes could never be fulfilled and he’d always just be the best friend. Why couldn’t George just be a woman? Just a bird he could wrap around his finger?

It would be easier but Ringo also knew that he didn’t like women that way anyway. “You just haven’t met the right one yet” he heard his mother saying. She had told him these words once, when he had complained about being single all the time while his friends weren’t. Little he he known that the reason was a very different one.

Of course Ringo had nights out with girls as well. He liked to have sex with them but not because he found them really attractive, much more to fulfill his own physical needs. Besides, he could always imagine… Ringo shook his head, he didn’t want to think about these things right now, not while being uncomfortably stuffed up in the stinky car.

They got back in the house and Ringo tried to stop losing himself in stupid lovesick thoughts.

“Do you want to shower first?” he asked George with a faint smile, gosh the other man was too beautiful, even now that he was all sweaty and exhausted.

“Sure, just let me get my stuff.” George answered him and started taking off his sweaty shirt. It left Ringo staring in horror. He couldn’t handle this right now, not after having already lost himself in thoughts about George multiple times that day, not after being all exhausted and sweaty from his previous anxiety loaded panic. But George didn’t seem to notice Ringo’s staring as he looked out of the window for a moment.

Ringo couldn’t move his eyes that were fixed on George’s back. Beautifully smooth and slightly pale skin and visible muscles as well as bones. Why was George so thin? Ringo thought for a moment, but that wasn’t really his business and to him that didn’t make George any less attractive.

It wasn’t his first time seeing George naked, or partially naked, as all of the four lads wouldn’t really mind to get changed in the same room before or after a gig. Well, Ringo minded to see George with his clothes off but he could hardly voice that concern without seeming weird. It was just that usually he was more prepared to see George undressed, not like now where George just randomly took his shirt off. “Not randomly” Ringo thought “He wants to shower and the sweaty shirt is uncomfortable. I was just too distracted today.”

Still staring at the other man, Ringo wanted to feel every little unevenness, all the slightly too present bones, he wanted to touch George so badly. It would be so easy... he’d just have to reach out and...

“You alright?” George chuckled. He had turned around, looking at Ringo now. Ringo quickly placed his hands on his lap to hide a certain bulge in his pants. Shit. That wasn’t good, not at all good.

“Uh yeah, I just.” Ringo shook his head. “Sorry I was in thoughts and didn’t notice I was staring.” He chuckled nervously, hoping George would believe him.

“I’m in the shower now.” the taller lad announced. “Join me?”

Ringo frowned in bafflement. What the hell was happening? Did George?

“Just joking” George laughed suddenly “You should have seen your face, looked like someone drove a motorcycle over your foot”

Ringo joined his laughter almost relieved and yet confused as ever. He believed to se a tiny bit of sadness hush over the younger lad’s face when he turned to walk off to their hotel bathroom. Was George sad he hadn’t said yes? Ringo chuckled a bit to himself. Unbelievable how his lovestruck brain interpreted every kind of rubbish into every kind of situation. George had made a _joke_ , that was it, nothing else. They were best friends after all, and band mates. _Nothing more_. And George was a man, a _straight_ man who had had girlfriends before.

Ringo couldn't help his thoughts wandering back to George’s beautiful exposed upper body againand he got painfully aware of the bulge in his pants. This was bad. He couldn’t take care of his body now, especially after what had happened. George could come back any moment and it would be more than embarrassing if – Ringo didn’t want to think of that. He’d wait until it was his turn to shower.

It felt like George was showering for an eternity. Ringo’s disgustingly sweaty pants felt way too tight and he was entirely uncomfortable with his situation, yet couldn’t stop thinking about George’s beautiful soft skin, his almost hairless back and chest. Ringo got up to collect his clothes for the night that he intended to wear after the shower. At home he would sleep in his shorts only as he didn’t really like to wear a pyjama at night, however he had figured that it wasn’t the best idea whilst he was sharing same bed with the… with the _love of his life_. Was that what George was to him? Ringo thought, knowing the answer already deep down in his heart. It felt painful, plainly painful, not beautiful like love should feel like.

Ringo had just sat back down again when George came back from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his slim waist and dark, wet curls falling into his face. His hair was always curlier when it was wet, Ringo knew.

”Your turn Richie!”

What was all this about? Usually George didn’t walk around like this. Had he noticed anything? Did he want to out Ringo somehow? No, that wasn’t how George was like. George wouldn’t purposely make him feel uncomfortable. It was just George after all, his best friend who probably just forgot to take his pyjama with him.

“Be right back…” whispered the short man before quickly disappearing in the bathroom and locking the door behind him. "Finally", he thought while stripping off his sticky, smelly clothes and stepping into the shower. He could take care of himself now. He turned on the hot water, letting it stream down on his face. Ringo loved showers as they were the only place where he didn’t feel ashamed for any of his thoughts and imaginations. The warm tickling water always seemed to reassure him just as if somebody was saying “It’s alright, no one will see or hear you here.”

Ringo quietly put his attention back to his stiff member as his thoughts started wandering back to George, to the man’s beautiful warm eyes, his slender figure that Ringo would love to hug tight. Slowly he started stroking himself to get the relief his body had been begging for since the moment George had stripped down his shirt. Ringo imagined himself close to George, imagined George’s warm breath against his own neck, their eyes locking, Ringo’s light blue ones and George’s warm brown eyes. He imagined his ringed fingers against the soft skin of Georges thighs, causing the younger man to shiver and gasp. Oh what would he give to touch his friend like that?

It didn’t take him long to find the relief he had been hoping for, not when he had George to think of.

It was always the after Ringo felt guilty about. With a clearer less lust-filled mind, he didn’t feel good about what he had done. He shouldn’t think such things about George, it wasn’t his right to disgrace the beautiful man with dirty thoughts like these. It _wasn’t right_.

Sighing, he started to wash himself and soon got out of the shower to dry his skin with the towel that the hotel had provided. It didn't take him long to get dressed and leave the bathroom room again.

George was laying on the bed, his nose stuck in a book with only a towel slung around his hips.

Ringo felt pranked. Why didn’t George just put on his damn pyjama?

“Could you lend me something from you?” George asked almost as if he had read Ringo’s mind “I forgot one of my bags at home, the one with my pyjama inside.”

Now it made sense to Ringo. Of course, this wasn’t about him, how could it be, really.

“Sure, just let me see” he answered while searching his luggage for something suitable. “How about this?” he pulled out a T-shirt which had “Submarine Race Watchers“ written on it. Ringo didn’t remember where he had gotten it but he liked to wear it on warm days when he was lazing at home or in the accommodation since it was quite soft and flowy.

“I know this one, you’ve been wearing this before” Ringo blushed a little, George had actually noticed.

”Yep, don’t even know where I got it “ he chuckled while handing it to George and trying his best not to stare at George’s bare chest. George pulled the shirt over his head.

“Thanks, it’s really comfortable!”

Ringo couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s way too big on you, you’re floating.”

“Floating like a submarine!” George chuckled while pointing on the submarine that was printed onto the shirt.

“Let me take a picture of this.” Ringo suggested. It wasn’t unusual for him to take pictures of funny, nice or interesting moments as photography was one of the other passions Ringo held dearly to his heart.

George didn’t smile for the picture, instead he opened his mouth slightly and tilted his chin slightly towards the camera. Ringo had noticed this before. When George wasn’t sure what face to pull, he usually tried to mimic the typical “fashion-model-face” they often saw in magazines. It was certainly working and Ringo was sure the picture would turn out incredible.

“Got it” he noted while flopping down on the bed too.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow!” George suddenly said with a sweet smile on his lips. Right, tomorrow. They would be going out tomorrow before hitting the stage in the evening.

“Yeah likewise” he just replied while smiling back at the other man. It was true, he really wanted to go out with George but it also made him quite stressed out right now. How would he approach this? How would he survive being alone with George without losing himself in his thoughts again? After all they were _just friends_.

“I’m proud of you by the way” George suddenly interposed, changing the topic as quickly as he had brought it up. “You were good up there on the stage.”

Oh right, Ringo awoke from his thoughts again. Too much was going through his head at the moment.

“Yeah I wore a fancy hat today “ he chuckled.

George’s face lit up and a spark of happiness lightened his dark eyes “So it really helped you then!” He exclaimed.

Ringo chuckled blushing “Yes. Really, thank you.“

George seemed content about that. They were quiet for a moment until Paul suddenly burst in.

“Do you go- oi, your wearing your Pj “Paul said, looking at Ringo before frowning at George quizzically. Wasn’t that Ringo’s shirt? “I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to have some fun at the bar but apparently you’re about to sleep or whatever you two do at night” Paul joked.

Ringo just shrugged. “I was a bit exhausted today so I figured that it’d be better to get to sleep soon“

“Yeah and besides, we planned to get up earlier, we wanted to explore this region tomorrow.” George added.

“Alright, I’ll tell John. Good night lads” Paul said as he was about to wander off again, throwing one last confused glance at the submarine T-shirt. Ringo was glad that George didn’t go with Paul. He disliked to sleep alone in the small bed, despite on how challenging the other option was sometimes.

“Want to play cards?” the younger man suddenly suggested. “I’m not that tired yet”.

Ringo was tired instead but playing cards was fine too. It was something George and he did occasionally when they were bored or just had some spare time and felt like it. It mostly didn’t work perfectly well when it was just the two of them playing as most games required more than two people but Ringo still enjoyed it and so did George.

“Sure, what are we going to play?” Ringo asked while the other man started shuffling the cards in his hands.

“Let’s play Mau-Mau since its only the two of us” George hummed while settling on the bed, his naked legs crossed. It was a game the both of them really liked. They had been introduced to it in Germany for the first time by the barkeeper of their stay.

Maybe Ringo liked a tiny bit better, as he was usually lucky with the cards he got while George wasn’t. His luck didn’t let him down this time either.

“It’s the rings y’know.“ he told George. “Lucky rings.” George laughed, but his laugh was soon smothered by a big yawn.

“Guess its time to sleep” the guitarist suggested. Ringo agreed, he was tired as a dog anyway. They brushed their teeth and settled into the small bed. Ringo was always the one laying on the wall side. It was something they had mutually agreed on without actually addressing it.

Soon Ringo felt Georges back pressing against his own, warmly, comfortably. Well, it wasn't particularly comfortable, he could barely move. Ringo had already noticed that sleeping cosily in a bed with George was a game of luck. The slim man would either curl up into a tight sausage or he would stretch out his limps in every direction, making it impossibly to find any rest to Ringo. Just like a cat Ringo thought. Today he was glad that George was sausaging, as the bed really was small and Ringo really tired. The man closed his eyes and enjoyed George’s warm embrace against his own. His thoughts once again slid back to the date he was about to have with George tomorrow. _Not_ a date between lovers, a _friends_ date.

Should he buy George flowers? After all George loved plants and the beautiful aesthetic things in life, such as flowers, the more colourful, the better. Would its be to cheesy? Too obvious?

Ringo eventually decided that it was alright to buy a flowers for your best friend, especially if this said friend loved plants. Slowly Ringo started dozing off while imagining George all happy and joyful about a bouquet from his best friend Ringo.

When the sunlight started tickling Ringo’s nose and he slowly started opening his eyes he was glad to see the other lad still sleeping next to him, snoring very quietly and peacefully. For a moment Ringo just stayed where he was and took in the beautiful sight in front of him. George had turned around and was facing him now, breathing slowly and calmly.

His face seemed to be sharp and edgy at first glance but Ringo knew that it had a certain softness to it that one would only notice at second glimpse. His thick and long lashes surely weren’t as prominent as Paul’s, but just right and perfectly fitting into his slim face. Ringo knew every bit of George’s face, every detail, he knew the little wrinkle between George’s brows that slowly started getting visible since George was frowning way too much. A beautiful face like this should have to frown, Ringo thought. For a moment his eyes rested on the full slightly parted lips. how easy would it be to kiss them now…? Ringo would never get tired of the beautiful sight of sleeping George but he had to get going if he wanted to get flowers before the other man woke up. One last time he looked into the beautiful face to examine the thick lashes and the beautiful warm eyes… Oh! George was awake and looking at him. Ringo felt himself turning red, feeling caught doing something forbidden.

He felt just like a child that was stealing one more cookie and was caught by their mother, expect he wasn’t a child and this was George who once again had caught him staring.

The man just started smiling slightly, sweetly.

“Morning Richie” he mumbled before closing his eyes again. “Just a little longer m’kay?”

Good, Ringo thought, George was still too tired to realize anything and if George fell asleep again he could get the flowers too.

“Sure sure, sweet dreams” he cooed while getting up and putting on a fresh pair of clothes. He wanted to look good today. Had he known he was going on a date with _George_ , on a date with his _best friend_ , he’d certainly have brought something else with him. He didn’t however so he chose what he liked best from what he had available. A simple pair of tight black jeans, paired with a rose-coloured button-up sark and his favourite leather jacket.

He checked again if George was really sleeping after getting ready to leave the hotel. The younger man was in fact breathing slowly and had his eyes closed again. What a sloth.

Ringo left with a satisfied grin while wrapping a scarf around his neck and putting on a nice hat to hide his face from potential fans that were on Beatles hunt today. He soon found what he was looking for: A small but nice-looking flower shop. After some wandering around he chose a particularly colourful bouquet that he was sure the other man would like.

“She must be a beautiful lady to receive a pompous bundle of flowers like this.” the cashier noted with raised brows as she sold Ringo the flowers.

“The most beautiful “ he answered with a bright toothy smile.

“Good luck then” the lady said with a smile as Ringo left the shop.

Little did she know "the lady" was a bloke and additionally only his friend.

Ringo was careful not to bump into John and Paul as he sneaked into their hotel room. He did not want to answer any questions about the beautiful big pile of flowers.

He knocked quietly, not wanting to interrupt George with anything. Said man opened the door for him just to see a bright smiling Ringo who was hiding something behind his back. George looked amazing as always. His hair was soft and smelling a bit like cinnamon (Ringo knew that since they had been sleeping next to each other). The guitarist had chosen a thin mint green shirt, tucked into a pair of too big, dark green pants that were held up by a black belt. So green was the colour of the day, Ringo thought amusedly. George certainly looked good in everything he was wearing.

Ringo suddenly felt very nervous. What if George thought it was weird that he had bought flowers for him? What if George didn’t like the bouquet he had chosen?

Anyway, it was too late now, he was already standing there with the flowers behind his back.

“Good morning Richie! Where have you been?” the taller man asked with a lovely smile lighting up his face while stepping a bit aside so Ringo could come in.

“Just err... went to get you something…uhm... flowers...” Ringo rambled without moving. Instead he showed him the flowers he had been hiding behind his back, while his heart seemed to be beating up to his throat. George looked more than surprised.

“Oh…Flowers…” he said numbly while taking the bouquet from Ringo. The short man suddenly regretted the little gift. “He doesn’t like it” shot through his mind and made Ringo want to curl up and die.

“Just thought... Well...You helped me yesterday and I figured you liked plants so...”

“Thanks Richie!” he heard George humming.

And just a split second later he felt something unexpected, something soft and sweet against his cheek where George was kissing him.

This couldn’t be real, he must be hallucinating. No, it was real. Did friends kiss each on the cheek? He hadn’t seen Paul and John doing it. Ringo felt baffled. Did George… like him or did he just wanted to thank him somehow?

Ringo felt a happiness foam up his chest - It felt like he was out of his breath, unable to move and yet it was a warm comfortable feeling. Hell, George might actually like him!

The man currently removed the plastic flowers that stood on the windowsill, out of their vase to replace them with the beautiful real ones Ringo had given to him.

“They look amazing, really” He said to Ringo with a warm expression. Ringo realized that he hadn’t moved yet and that he probably looked like a deer in the headlights, standing there, eyes wide open in surprise.

“You’re welcome, I figured you’d like something colourful in here. I mean the plastic flowers and that painting over there are terribly depressing after all.” he chuckled, slowly gaining back his voice and motion.

“Its really ugly” George confirmed, smiling while closing his eyes to smell on the flowers. Ringo wished more than ever that he had taken a picture of that exact moment: The sun shining into George’s beautiful face while he was smelling on the flowers, a content grin on his lips.

“Can I… Can I take a picture?” he asked reluctantly, while gesturing towards George and the flowers, knowing it was quite a weird thing to ask for. It was weird to kiss your best friend’s cheek too Ringo figured. George chuckled a bit, still leaning down to take in the smell of sun and beauty that the flowers spread.

“Sure, photographer boy.” It didn’t take Ringo long until he found his camera to capture the moment.

“Perfect” he mumbled while putting it back in its case.

“Wait” George threw in “We’re going out now right? Bring that camera too, I’m sure well be able to take a few nice shots”. That was a good idea, Ringo couldn’t say no to that.

“Sure thing, let’s get going then before the sun changes its mind, it’s beautiful outside at the moment.” Ringo suggested while putting the strap of the camera over his head. “Do you want to take a walk in the park? I saw one while looking for a florist’s “ Ringo hummed while offering his arm to George. The men linked their arms almost shyly.

“I’d love too, been a while since I’ve gotten some fresh air” they both smiled and walked in silence for some time. It was a comfortable and warm kind of silence. Both of them were enjoying the rays of the cool morning sun on their faces, the smell of tulips and moaned grass. It really was a beautiful park Ringo thought while taking a few pictures. He turned to his side, to George, to find the other one’s eyes resting on him. Quickly George turned away, looking forward to the small earthy way, framed by blooming trees. Had George been staring at him? Ringo blushed and joined George with looking at the beautiful sight in front of them.

“One day I want to be a gardener” George said suddenly. “When I don’t want to be on the stage anymore I want to watch the flowers and trees grow like they do here.”

“You’d rather want to be a gardener than a musician?” Ringo asked with surprise.

George answered while they were taking a seat on one of the parks benches. “I love music, but I want to be a gardener at some point, yes. It’s like watching a child grow, a child that doesn’t scream, cry and stink.“ he chuckled. Ringo joined his soft laughter. He felt warm and flowery. Maybe he wasn’t so desperately in love, maybe it wasn’t as hopeless as he had thought.

“I’m sure you’d be a great gardener, it’d suit you” he said while looking at George, maybe a bit too lovestruck. He got up for a moment to pick one of the many arnica flowers that were growing beside the field of tulips all over the park. Slowly, he tried to stick it behind George’s ear, failing at first and having to pick it up from the ground again before trying to fit the orange flower into George’s hair again.

“Now you’re a real gardener, the decoration was missing!” he declared with another chuckle.

“Oi, I’m not a girl, I don't wears flowers in my hair.” George huffed, jokingly while pulling up his nose slightly, causing it to wrinkle a bit.

“Paul isn’t a girl either and he often does that too” Ringo noted.

“Yes, that’s just Paul though, he’s a special one when it comes to these things.“ George left the flower where it was despite his protesting. They continued walking for a little until returning to sit down in the cafe they wanted to go to in first place since the park got a bit too crowded for their liking. They both made sure to sit down in the back, hidden from potential fans.

It was a nice little cafe. The wallpapers were unicoloured in a very soft mint green that was matching George’s loose flowy shirt. The rest of the cafe was also held in mild pastel colours and while Ringo usually preferred vibrant tones, he considered it to be just perfectly fitting right now. They were both sitting on a red corner bench with a small round table in front of them. Ringo ordered a tea for himself, as well as a piece of chocolate cake. He hadn’t had breakfast yet and his stomach started to complain by now. George also decided to order a cup of tea as well as the house made biscuits he had found on he menu. Ringo couldn’t suppress a little chuckle. Of course George would order biscuits. What else would he chose? George smiled at him quizzically but didn’t ask him why he was laughing.

It was quiet again. They both weren’t the most talkative people and they didn’t have to be to understand each other. Sometimes however they got in conversations and words would float out of their mouths like water in a waterfall. Ringo liked both. The intense conversations as well as the comfortable and warm silence.

Georges gaze was fixed on the menu and Ringo was just wondering what was so interesting about it when he suddenly felt something cold against his hand that lay on the bench, slightly hidden under the table. Long slim fingers interweaving with his own ringed ones. Blood shot into Ringo’s face. He had given up denying what was happening by now, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be surprised by George’s overtures. He carefully started moving his thumb, caressing the slender soft hand which had fingertips all covered by blisters and hardened skin from previous blisters. Ringo saw a faint blush sit on George’s cheek who was still focussing on the menu. Ringo supposed it was George’s shyness that evoked his attention and interest towards the card. It felt forbidden, like something only the two of them shared, intelligible to everybody else. And for the first time Ringo understood what it meant to have butterflies in his tummy. He felt good, no, he felt great. He felt like he could conquer the world. Yes, he wanted to run around and tell everybody about his great feeling of happiness and joy, oh, he wanted the entire world to know about this overwhelming feeling their intertwined hands could cause.

Or he would just tell George - In a way he would tell his whole world then.

“Georgie?” the skinny lad suddenly looked up as if Ringo had interrupted him in something important and actually interesting.

“Mh?”

Ringo actually didn’t know what to say so instead he just leant in, closing the distance between them, once again being glad they were all hidden in the back of the cafe where no one would see them. George seemed to understand and closed the rest bit of distance between them, making their lips meet.

Oh, it was so soft, so sweet and innocent. Ringo couldn’t help but close his eyes and enjoy every second of it. He didn’t want this to end, it was just too perfect. However, after some time Ringo felt the need to catch a breath. A cold hand, the one that wasn’t tangled with his own one, moved to his neck and carefully pulled him close again making their lips meet once more, right after he had parted to gasp for air. It was the best feeling Ringo had felt in his entire life. Nothing could be compared George’s soft lips and sweet breath, his cold hands and the quiet smacking of their kiss that only the two of them could hear…

Unfortunately they had to part eventually, being all out of breath. It was just when they untangled from each other that the waiter came with their orders, apologizing about having taken so long since they had run out of biscuits. And for the first time George looked like he was glad that his biscuits came running late. They shot little secretive looks toward each other’s, both having pink swollen lips from kissing just a bit too much.

Ringo couldn’t wait to be alone with George again, he couldn’t wait until their lips would met again. The chocolate cake was excellent for sure but once having tasted the addictive sweetness of George’s lips, Ringo just wanted another kiss.

They had a nice and unimportant chat about John and Paul and about their hometown Liverpool, but Ringo could still feel the tension lingering between them, a tension that made both of them feel a strong urge to pull the other one close, clash their lips together. It was almost unbearable and yet Ringo was happier than ever before. He had kissed George, the love of his life, his soulmate and finally he felt like these feelings weren’t one sided anymore.

When the two men arrived back at the hotel George quickly locked the door to prevent any Pauls, Johns or Brians to storm in and disturb them. The short period in which they had rushed into the room, in which George had locked the door, felt just like the silence before the storm.

Ringo immediately pressed his lips against George’s pushing the latter one slightly against the wall and making him chuckle into the kiss. He felt George’s arm around his neck, felt his body closely pressed against his own. He felt George’s tongue carefully asking for permission to enter his mouth which he opened slightly, allowing it to slide in. Ringo placed his arms on the taller man’s hips, pressing more closely against his body. George paused the kiss for a moment, already letting a quiet moan escape his lips. It made Ringo shiver in excitement and a wave of lust took him over now. Oh, Ringo had dreamt about this multiple times and yet there was no dream that could be compared with how good it actually felt to be close to George like that. Ringo's belt suddenly started feeling too tight, the fabric between them too thick. Unbearably thick. He was glad George’s body seemed to react the same way as his.

If he did this like he knew it from the nights he had spend with some birds it would be fine right?

Expect George wasn’t _some bird_ , he was the love of his life and a bloke on top of that. Still, Ringo could do this.

He slid one of his legs between George’s, glad that the man was slightly slacked while leaning against the wall, making their height difference no problem. He heard it again, a little noise escaping from the younger man’s lips. He wanted more of this, more of George's beautiful voice.

“Ringo...” he said suddenly and it made Ringo blush and shiver.

“Want to move to the bed?” The older one asked quietly while softly removing one of George’s hair strands out of his face. He lay his hand on the other mans defined cheek, feeling him lean against it slightly. George looked down at the ground for a moment before their eyes locked and Ringo felt overwhelmed by the arousal and affection in George’s almost closed eyes.

They both flopped on the bed, soon kissing again, attracting each other like inseparable magnets. Ringo carefully climbed over the other lad, slowly starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Undress?” he suggested with a slightly pleading voice.

“Yeah but you too” George answered smiling softly while taking off his clothes .

They weren’t completely naked yet, both still in their shorts. Ringo slowly started tracing his fingers over George’s skin, caressing his sides and chest gently. It was even softer than he had imagined, his bones even more prominent. They kissed again. Suddenly he felt George move away from his lip, starting to nibble on his earlobe, carefully tugging while bulging his hips up towards Ringo’s. This time it was him who couldn’t help the quiet smothered noise that was forming in his throat. He felt himself hard against George’s hips when he suddenly sensed a cold hand down there, gently but at the same time firmly caressing his dick through his remaining piece of clothing. Ringo felt it twitch slightly under the light touch and couldn't help a little gasp. 

“Come on, touch me.” The other man encouraged him smiling a little cheekily now.

“Yeah but let’s undress for real first.“ Ringo smiled. As much as he liked playing around, he was getting a little impatient by now, not able to bear the tension any longer. 

He carefully covered the two of them with the blanket. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see George all the way but he figured they were both a little shy since this was a first, something new. It wasn't long until he felt George’s cool hands back on his dick causing him to shiver in excitement. This time he started to touch the other man the same in return. George was smiling, confidently, Ringo noted. A certain spark sat in his eyes, excitement as well as curiosity. Ringo liked that, liked how comfortable, how confident the other man looked while they we're doing something so intimate, so new. 

It didn’t feel like with a girl or anybody Ringo had previously been with. Other than previous partners, George knew exactly what would feel right. He knew what to do and what not to do, given that he had a dick himself. Ringo did his best to satisfy the guitarist as much as he could, but he wanted more. He had imagined this too often. He wanted all of George, wanted to feel every single bit of him.

Sent by a sudden rush of lust he clashed their lips together once more, less softly, less tender than before. It made George pull his hand away in surprise. Oh how Ringo loved the sweet soft lips, that weren't so soft anymore now. The shorter man let his fingers caress over Georges sides, carefully moving down farther and tracing the skin of his inside thigh, causing the other man to shiver and wince quietly. Placing little kisses on the other lad’s neck now, Ringo slowly let his fingers wander to his bottom.

George suddenly froze.

“Richie?“ Ringo noticed an uncertainty in George’s voice and quickly understood that this wasn’t the right moment yet. He had gotten too carried away. Of course it was too scary to go all the way already. Smiling reassuringly, he let his hands wander back, placing them on Georges hip.

“No hurry” he cooed quietly.

He’d do something else then. Stealing another kiss from George’s lips he now wrapped his fingers around both of their dicks causing George to gasp and throw his head back slightly. It was hot, he felt George's fast warm breath right next to his ear, heard every little noise the other man would make. George was sweating, his hair slightly sticky against his forehead and Ringo supposed he didn't look much different himself.The younger man kept lifting his hips, bulging up into Ringo's hand, moaning and gasping quietly while occasionally going through his partners hair and shooting a pleasured glimpse at him. It was the best sight Ringo could have imagined. 

Both of them were sweating, gasping and moaning quietly when Ringo started getting close. George wasn’t feeling much different according to his not so slightly trembling thighs that were now tucked up and pressed against Ringo’s hipbones.

George looked gorgeous, his head now slightly tilted to the side, eyes mostly closed, sometimes fluttering open again to look at the other man in a foggy and blissful manner.

“I’m... Richie I’m getting close... ”

“Me too” Ringo mumbled.

They both didn’t last long anymore. When George suddenly threw his head back, making a gurgling, muffled noise Ringo couldn’t resist anymore. He felt the wave of unbearable bliss hit him as he orgasmed. He took a quick look at George who had come too.

"Good" Ringo thought as he flopped down on top of the other man. He felt a pair of slim arms wrapping themselves around him and a slender cold hand ran through his hair. George's hands were always so cold...

They rested for another moment until Ringo started feeling a little uncomfortably sticky.

“Let me clean you” he mumbled while getting up, bringing a wet towel to softly wipe off any evidence of their previous actions.

“Thanks” George cooed and pulled him back close again as soon as he was done. They just stayed like that for some time, looking at each other, lovestruck and happy. They would shower later, they would get up later. And Ringo wasn’t going to be afraid of the upcoming gig until later. It all had time when he was with George.

After a while Ringo started tracing his fingers over George’s pale skin to feel every little unevenness, every way too present bone, just like he had dreamed to for so long.

“Since when?” He asked the other man without further explanation.

“Don’t know, Hamburg? When we started sleeping in the same bed I guess.” He got as an answer.

“Yeah me too, always found you beautiful.” He looked up to see George smiling and blushing sweetly. Ringo had thousands of questions, so many that he decided to stay quiet and enjoy the moment. They kept getting lost each other’s eyes, finally being able to do so and finally being true to each other and their feelings.

“I love you” Ringo said after a while. Maybe it was too early but he knew that this was the right thing to do, it was the truth after all. George was the love of his life. It was quiet for a moment and George was just smiling at Ringo contently and amusedly.

”I know”. Not the answer Ringo had expected but certainly a good one that led to chuckles.

It wasn’t until evening when they were about to hit the stage and Ringo was all anxious and messed up again that George gave him soft, harmless hug and whispered:

“Just remember, whatever happens, I love you too Richie.”


End file.
